Writer, tv personality, and occasional chef Anthony Bourdain waxes poetic about the simple perfection of meat and tube form. The hotdog isn’t Americana, it’s America. I’m sure if “Take me out to the ballgame” was due for a rewrite, the hotdog would not be so carelessly omitted. So, that being said, is the Dodger Dog a treasured baseball artifact or is it just overpriced cheap meat that’s sold to adults trying to recapture their childhoods?
The Dodger Dog comes in several different forms: Grilled, Steamed, and All Beef Super Dog. The consensus from my circle of friends and Wikipedia is that grilled is the preferred model. I personally have eaten all forms of this particular tube steak (including Veggie) and I haven’t found enormous differences, but I will concede the grilled version is probably superior.
The Dodger Dog is a 10 inch hot dog that cost $9000 each (2010 prices). The dogs are produced by Farmer John, a lovely slaughterhouse that functions under the Hormel (the Spam people) umbrella. The bun is steamed in the New York hotdog cart tradition, making it soft, supple, and resembling a freshly waxed pre-teen scrotum. A visual masterpiece, it is not. The taste of the Dodger Dog depends less on the condiment combination (I recommend yellow mustard and onion), but more on the ambience of the game itself. An impossibly hot 1pm game in mid-july, with crying children everywhere, teenage girls in pink Red Sox hats, and the home team cellar dwelling in the NL West could lead to a disgusting limp bite of wet dough made worse by the emptiness of your wallet.
Note to Reader: If you are unfamiliar with the “Aristocrats Joke” please search and read it before continuing. Enjoy.
Frank McCourt walks into Bud Selig’s office and says, “Do I have a baseball team for you.” Selig says, “I have enough teams, but I’m intrigued. What’s special about your team?” McCourt straightens up and says, “Well first I walk out on to the field and take off my pants. I invite my secretaries, assistants, and interns on to the grass and I bend them over and start publicly forcing myself in them while watching myself on the Jumbotron. Meanwhile, my wife, Jamie comes out blowing one of her subordinates while simultaneously filing for divorce. I then, slap her across the face with documents from our charity, the Dream Foundation, that prove I paid my friend 400,000 dollars per year for sitting in an office.
Then all the players charge the field as Joe Torre throws his own feces at them. Rafael Furcal is the first one on the field, and upon reaching his position he begins to tear every tendon out of his body. Jamey Carroll and Dee Gordon run over and start rubbing Furcal’s blood all over themselves knowing they’ll have the opportunity to play poorly for the remainder of the season. Matt Kemp slowly and lazily finds his way out of the dugout with his ex-girlfriend, Rihanna, and he promptly clubs her with a Louisville Slugger quipping, ‘Matt Kemp hits everything’. As Rihanna writhes in pain, Kemp and basketball player Sheldon Williams violate her every orfice while chanting, ‘Just like old times in 2002’. Upon Kemp’s climax he is awarded the NL MVP award. Continue reading →